As I look southward to a distant hill
A gaunt dryad stands tall and still
Enchanting me with unbending will
it’s creaky incantations call
In rattling whispers (thanks to fall)
And all my inhibitions stall
But I have never seen a sign
That there’s a way beyond this pine
So on I drive as pistons whine
With no one left around to lead
It’s pointless to reduce my speed
Approval never was a need.
Are You Reading Me?
No comments:
Post a Comment